


Pinecones

by Beleriandings



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, Family Relationships - Freeform, Ford and Mabel bonding, Gen, Important Conversations, Post-Weirdmageddon, bittersweet fluff i guess???, get rekt Bill Cipher, important and difficult conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8457910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: They both know that Bill Cipher is gone for good. But they both felt they needed to check.





	

According to his calculations of distance and trajectory this must be it, Ford knew. This was the place. He reached the top of a slight rise and hesitated for a moment right on the edge of the clearing that opened before him, his view still blocked by a fine network of low hanging pine branches.

 

_What are you waiting for? He's dead. Dead as a block of stone._

 

_Remember? That was why you came here; to make sure. Just go look, and then everything will be all right again and you can go home to Stanley and the children. Dipper and Mabel are leaving for California so soon; you’re losing precious time already._

 

Still, he hesitated on the edge of the clearing, listening, wanting to walk forward to check, and yet not wanting to. _What if_ -

 

A sound, a rustling just in front of him, where his view was blocked by the branches.

 

He froze for a split second, his mind going horribly blank as a bolt of pure terror rattled through him, then flinched violently, one hand going to the familiar grip of his trusty laser blaster at his side.

 

_Not that it would do much good. Not if it really was_ -

 

_No_. Ford drew his hand away with an effort, willing himself to release the tension in his fingers - one by one - and to take slow, calm breaths. Just like he'd practiced, so many times when panic - anything but the clearest of heads, in fact - would have meant his certain death.

 

_No_. That rustle was only some small animal in the undergrowth, a squirrel maybe, hidden by the branches. _Go and look, and check for yourself. Evidence. Evidence is important. Think rationally._

 

_The sleep of reason brings forth monsters._

 

He had had cause to think about that quotation a lot, over the years.

 

Despite all this, Ford’s hand was still trembling fractionally as he parted the vegetation, he had to admit. Still, he tried to make as little sound as possible as he let his feet fall on the forest loam and decaying, damp twigs under his feet. _Concentrate. Remember, how you learned to track, to hunt, to be silent when necessary; you wouldn't have survived without it_.

 

Another shuffling sound, this time accompanied by a flash of movement that Ford could in no way attribute to the wind, for there was none. The forest was very still, a held breath....

 

" _Ahhhhhhh!_ "

 

An ear-splitting yell, followed an instant later by a flash of brilliant colour and something barrelling into his legs at high velocity. 

 

It came from in front of him, but to one side, not where he was expecting. Thus Ford was caught off guard, and before he could even reach for his blaster again he was being knocked backwards by the impact, falling hard and half-tangled with whatever it was that had hit him. The breath was knocked out of him and the impact sent him rolling backwards and down the slope up which he had just come, tangled up with his attacker - whose scream had decreased in neither volume nor pitch. 

 

Ford saw the forest spin even as his glasses flew off, leaving him only blurred smears of colour, dark green branches and pale blue sky above, a glimmer of sunlight, the dark, damp brown of the forest floor, then another flash of a rainbow of colours, before something was covering his face. Something that felt like fur or hair, blocking out his vision, and he winced as what felt distinctly like a large and solid branch jabbed him hard in the ribs as they rolled.

 

His mind was already working even as he tumbled back down the low slope, in a flurry of leaves. _It wasn’t Bill. He hadn’t returned._ Relief coursed through him even as he got a mouth full of earth and pine needles, landing heavily face down, with the weight of the thing that had attacked him on his back. 

 

Despite this, and despite his earlier panic, excitement and curiosity were already beginning to return. _One of the miscellaneous and too-often obnoxious fairy folk, going by that patch of rainbow he had caught a glimpse of? That seemed to be their preferred aesthetic, as a rule. Or perhaps some sort of forest sprite or feral tree-person, going by the branch that had hit him so painfully in the ribs?_

 

He was about to push himself up on his hands, ready to turn around and face his attacker when whatever it was slid off his back and landed with a soft thud and an explosion of pine needles on the forest floor at his side, swiftly followed by an extremely familiar voice.

 

"Huh? Grunkle Ford?"

 

"...Mabel?” Ford blinked, sitting up and squinting. The world was hopelessly blurry without his glasses, but he doubted any tree person other hostile force of the forest would be able to imitate his grandniece's voice quite so perfectly. 

 

"Grunkle Ford!" He felt small, sweater-clad arms flung about his chest very tightly. _Yes, that was definitely Mabel_. She drew back. "Oh!" She scampered a little up the gentle incline down which they had fallen, appeared to bend down and search for something on the ground as best as he could see, then sprang back to her feet with a squeal of triumph. "I found them!"

 

“Found what?" Ford asked. His heart rate was starting to decrease, but it was still far above normal. _Still so nervous._

 

He felt her take his hand and place a familiar object in his fingers. "Glasses!"

 

"...Oh. Thank you, Mabel.” He quickly put them on and smiled, and she beamed back at him, blowing her hair out of her face and dropping an alarmingly large section of dry branch to the ground, in order to extract a large clump of twigs from her hair and her rainbow-striped sweater, with limited success. 

 

Still, there was something else behind her smile, Ford thought, some hint of an expression he couldn't quite place. 

 

"...Oh, uh..." Mabel clasped her hands guiltily, with a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I _kinda_ might have knocked you down there. Also hit you a little bit with a chunk of a tree… you’re not hurt, are you? Dipper says I don’t know my own strength.”

 

It did hurt a little, and would probably hurt more, but Ford waved it off. “It’ll bruise, but no more. I’ve had much worse.” Some of it recently, in fact; many of the cuts and bruises that he had sustained during Weirdmageddon were still visible, and the burn scars at his wrists and throat were still a dark shade of pink. They would turn white in time - joining the other scars on his skin, from countless battles for survival in hostile dimensions - but they would never truly fade. 

 

Mabel hefted the branch again, before dropping it at her feet. “This was the only heavy thing I could find to fight… wait no… what I mean is… I just got scared because..." she gestured vaguely behind her, back to the clearing.

 

He was already nodding in sympathy at having to deal with makeshift weapons when her meaning sunk in, and his smile died. At the same time as he realised she had tailed off, no longer smiling but rather looking oddly guilty, shuffling her feet awkwardly in a way that reminded him more of Dipper than of Mabel as he knew her. 

 

She took a long, doubtful look over her shoulder. 

 

It was only then her words permeated his mind, in conjunction with where he had found her.

 

_Oh._

 

“Mabel, were you here… because of Bill?”

 

She hesitated momentarily, then nodded, dropping her head and wiping her face as a stray tear rolled down her cheek. “I… had a dream last night” she mumbled. “About… him. He had Dipper, and it was my fault again, and…”

 

Ford’s heart twisted. _Now, didn’t he himself know well what that was like?_ “Oh.” He cursed himself for not being better at comforting children, at hardly knowing how to comfort _anyone_ for that matter. “Mabel - " he began, starting to stand up, then changing his mind, deciding to remain kneeling; at least that way he didn't tower over her. That might make this at least a little easier. 

 

The statue of Bill just in the clearing a little way off certainly _didn’t_ make it any easier. The place they'd both been drawn to loomed just out of sight, like a real and tangible presence. 

 

_Still, he thought, I’ve got to tell her something._

 

_Stanley would be better at this, but Stanley isn't here_. The very last thing Ford wanted was to involve him too. _Not now, not yet._

 

"I just wanted to check!" blurted out Mabel all of a sudden, breaking into his thoughts. She took another wary peek over her shoulder. "I mean... I know he's... he isn't going to..." Ford had never seen her this lost for words. She was trembling a little too, and he took her hands, giving her what he hoped was an encouraging look. _Talk if you want to. If it helps._

 

_Wasn't that how this was supposed to be done?_

 

It seemed to have some effect anyway, for Mabel took a deep, steadying breath. "Bill's dead" she said, flatly. "I know that. I know he can’t come back but… and I just needed to check." She gestured again. "Please... don't tell Dipper. It'll make him scaredall over again." Then, she burst into tears. “He was so, so _scared_ , when Bill used his body as a puppet, and that was my fault, and then Bill came back and hurt everyone and that was my fault too. I gave him your spooky glass bubble thingy, and the whole town went crazy… and when Grunkle Stan lost his memory, even though we brought him back, it was still my fault to start with. Even you got hurt, and that was my fault too, it was all my fault…”

 

Ford didn't even have time to think, or to be taken aback by this sudden outburst; he merely acted on an instinct, enfolding Mabel in his arms in a tight hug. Immediately her small hands hugged him fiercely back, bunched into his coat as she sobbed into his shoulder. 

 

“Mabel” he said after a while, barely trusting himself to speak. “I want you to listen closely.”

 

She sniffed. “Mmm-hmm. I’m listening.”

 

“You say it’s your fault, who was it who got the unicorn hair which protected the Shack through all this?”

 

“Uh… me, I guess?”

 

“And who was it who got Stanley his memory back?”

 

“Well, I did, but…”

 

“Right. You refused to give up on him, even when I… when I had.”

 

“Well, yeah, but…”

 

“Mabel, I wouldn’t even _be_ in this dimension if you hadn’t put your trust in my brother. And… I realised I never actually thanked you for that, either. So… thank you, Mabel.”

 

She simply drew back and stared at him at that, silenced for a moment. “I’m definitely happy I did that part, anyway” she said, smiling, before tears came to her eyes once more. “But not everything was good! People got hurt! And if anyone’s to blame, then surely it’s me?”

 

“Well” said Ford evenly, “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and it’s true that there’s definitely _someone_ to blame.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Bill Cipher, of course.”

 

She blinked. “No one else?”

 

“No one else at all.” He breathed in. “It… took me a long time to be able to see that too, you know.”

 

She was silent for a long time. “…Grunkle Ford?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thanks. That helps, actually! Talking about it is… nice.” Mabel hiccuped a little. "I didn't... I didn't want to tell people!” she said indistinctly, half to his sweater. "I tried hugging Waddles, and that helped a little bit, but... normally I'd tell Dipper, but he's got his own stuff that makes him sad, and it's me that's supposed to do this for _him_ , and... and I might've..." she gave another little hiccuping sob. "Might've told Grunkle Stan, but he just got his memory back and I don’t want to ruin everything and… and we're all supposed to be happy now but I'm still scared sometimes and... and..." she let out another whimper and hugged him again.

 

He stroked her hair. "Shh, shh now. It's... it's okay." 

 

She looked up at him, red-eyed. “B-but…”

 

“Listen, Mabel” he said, taking a steadying breath himself and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you feel.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes. You said you wanted to check that Bill was really dead?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

He smiled ruefully. “Why do you think I came out here myself?”

 

She stared at him. “You were scared too?” 

 

He nodded. “It’s like you said. I _know_ he’s dead, but I just… wanted to check.” He knocked on the crown of his head and watching the tiny smile she made at the sound. “Unfortunately old habits die hard, and even a metal plate can’t keep the bad memories out.”

 

She shuddered a little at that. “I’d rather remember the bad stuff than forget it.”

 

“So would I.” He looked down at her small hands, open in the palms of his much larger, six-fingered ones, and was silent for a moment. “Also, Mabel, I… I been thinking things like that… like what you described… for thirty years. That it’s my fault, I mean.”

 

“Yeah, Dipper told me that…” she hesitated. “Bill possessed you. He lied to you. Made you build the portal for him.”

 

“If only that were all” said Ford, with a shake of his head. “I _let_ Bill possess me. He lied to me, but I wanted to believe him. I wanted so much to be…” he gestured vaguely. “Someone _better_ than the others. Someone special, who would change the world. When Bill promised me that chance, I didn’t even think to question it.” He made a face, feeling old pains resurfacing. “Not until it was far, far too late.” 

 

Mabel was nodding. “When he offered me… a little more summer… I wanted that a lot too. And then when he had me trapped…”

 

It was Ford’s turn to nod in recognition. “Dipper told me about how Bill kept you locked up in that prison bubble. Playing on what you want most. You know, it was the same as what he did to me, really.”

 

Mabel frowned. “B-but you… he promised you nerd fame and fortune, right? He said you’d be a big important science guy?” She looked down at her feet again, folding her arms close about her body. “I was surrounded by candy and glitter and my dream boys, and it was dumb but I still bought it for _way_ too long.”

 

“Yes” agreed Ford, tilting his head as he thought. “But it’s the same thing really.” He hadn’t thought about it quite like this before, but suddenly it was all becoming clear, even as he said the words. “He offered us both a dream of what we though we wanted. In some sense, he built me a magical world too.”

 

Mabel giggled. “But yours was made of math and weird science stuff, not candy!”

 

“It doesn’t matter” said Ford, very seriously. “It was just as fake, and the purpose was the same. And I stayed in mine longer than you did, Mabel.”

 

She smiled a little. “Well, I had Dipper to help me out of it. He said that he would stay with me, and not…” she tailed off. “…Oh. I…”

 

“It’s all right, Mabel.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Dipper already told me that he’d chosen to go home to California with you, instead of becoming my apprentice.”

 

“Oh! And… and you’re… you’re okay with that?”

 

Ford smiled. “I told him good luck in the new school year, and to send me a letter… ah… an “email”, sorry… if he needs help with homework. I’m afraid the way they teach trigonometry in schools serves only to impress upon young minds a hatred for the whole _concept_ of education.” 

 

Mabel smiled quickly, but then became solemn again. “But you’re not… you’re not mad at me? That I took him away from you?”

 

He felt a pang of painful memory, and held her hands a little tighter. “No, Mabel” he said. “I’m not mad at you, or anyone. If Dipper wants to come back to me in some years’ time, we’ll see then. But not until you two have graduated highschool, at the very least. I see now that it would have been _me_ taking him away from _you_ , not the other way around. And… and I don’t want to do that. You two need each other. I see that now.” He sighed. “I should have seen it a long time ago. I’m not going to let you two go down the same paths Stanley and I did, and I’m certainly not going to be the cause of it.” 

 

There were tears in Mabel’s eyes again, Ford realised with momentary alarm. But he quickly realised they were not tears of pain or fear this time. “Oh my gosh, Grunkle Ford!” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes sparkling. “That’s so _sweet_!”

 

He felt himself blush, muttering something that sounded incoherent even to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Ah… thank you, Mabel.” He smiled, feeling tears in his own eyes. “I suppose the only way of fixing things in the past is to make sure they don’t happen again in the future.” 

 

“Uh-uh. Not if you can time travel!” piped up Mabel. 

 

“Indeed” conceded Ford. “That would be an exception to that rule. Another, now that I come to think about it, would be if we were living in the Do-Over Dimension. Have I told you about that place yet?” 

 

“Yes, you told us yesterday! Also… I read your journal over Dipper’s shoulder.”

 

“Ah. A surprisingly unpleasant world, that. I wouldn’t recommend it. It has a habit of changing back on repeated runs, or even becoming worse. Not worth it, trust me. Even if…” he sighed. “Even if there is something you would give anything to change.”

 

A short silence fell. “Grunkle Stan will be okay” she assured him after a moment, with unshakable confidence. 

 

“Yes, I think so. I hope so.”

 

“Well, I _know_ so.”

 

“Nevertheless, I shall try to keep a watch on him to make sure.”

 

Mabel smiled. “You’ll be good at that.” 

 

“I hope so.” 

 

He stood, and she did too, brushing the pine needles and clumps of soil off her sweater rather ineffectually. Ford turned his gaze resolutely away from the little rise going up to the clearing beside them, turning instead towards the path that led back to the Mystery Shack.

 

“Shall we go home and see how our brothers have been getting on without us?” 

 

Mabel hesitated. “Um…”

 

“What…?”

 

She darted a quick glance over her shoulder. “Um, Grunkle Ford? Is it okay if I still… do what I came here to do?” She tucked her hands nervously into her sweater sleeves, wrapped her arms around herself, and avoided his gaze. “I can… catch you up, if you don’t want to see. But I just wanted… to check.”

 

For a short time he stared back at her, contemplating - just for a moment - telling her no, they were going home, and to put all thoughts of Bill from her mind. 

 

But that was not how this worked. If he knew anything, he knew that. _Let her check. Let her reassure herself that it really was alright, that she was safe._

 

“Yes” he said. “Of course. On one condition.”

 

“What?”

 

Ford offered her his hand. “I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

 

She took his hand, holding on tight.

 

 

 

They stood together, still hand in hand, on the edge of the clearing. 

 

And there it was. 

 

The statue was half buried in the grass, one hand still extended and open, as if to shake. Ford had seen it like that before, and suddenly he felt a flash of an impulsive, sickening urge to take that hand, just to see what would happen. 

 

_What was it he had said to Mabel? Old habits die hard?_

 

He knew, of course, that nothing would happen. The statue of Bill was just that; a statue, made of inert stone. The blank eye of unblinking stone would never swivel to catch him in its gaze again, it would merely stay here down the years, collecting moss and lichen, covered by the snow when winter came. 

 

Yet something twitched in his chest, making him want to reach out, a reckless impulse, to clasp that hand… Ford’s heart rate was starting to increase again, he realised, and he tried to take deep breaths, but already fear was starting to rise in him like a hot pan boiling over, threatening to spill, to burn. 

 

He felt a hand, squeezing his. 

 

“Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?”

 

He came back to himself over the course of a few long, stretched-out seconds, mist clearing a little as Mabel’s voice broke through. Her small hand squeezed his larger ones, once again. Her hand was very warm, her grip firm, as she laced her fingers through his. 

 

And suddenly, all thoughts of reaching out and taking the outstretched hand of stone were dissipating like smoke on the wind. Leaving a slight bitterness after, but disappearing all the same.

 

“Yes. I’m fine, sweetie.” And actually, he realised, _I’m fine_ was almost entirely true in this case. Certainly the truest it had been in… well, he barely knew how many years. He ruffled Mabel’s hair, as he had seen Stanley do, and she giggled. 

 

Then, after a moment, she leaned down to the ground with a conspiratorial grin, picking up a pinecone. She tossed it into the air, catching it again as Ford watched. Then she threw hard it at the statue. 

 

It bounced off the outstretched hand, and Ford could not help but laugh. “Wanna try?” said Mabel, offering him a second pinecone. “Betcha you can’t get his eye at this distance.”

 

Ford smiled slowly. “I’ll take that bet. What are we playing for?”

 

Mabel thought for a moment. “Ehhhh… if I win, you have to help me build a machine that will let Waddles _fly_!”

 

“That sounds like a nice exercise in aerodynamics. Fair’s fair. But what if _I_ win?”

 

“You get the honour of helping me build a machine that will let Waddles fly, of course!”

 

“That’s not much of a bet.”

 

She folded her arms, in a rather alarmingly accurate impression of Stanley, Ford thought. “Take it or leave it.”

 

He gave a mock theatrical sigh. “Well, I suppose I’ve made significantly worse wagers in my time. Done.” He tossed the pinecone up in the air, then threw it at the statue. 

 

It hit Bill’s stone hat and bounced off, rolling away and disappearing into the grass. 

 

“Ha!” laughed Mabel. “Get ready for Waddles the Great Aviator Pig, coming soon to a sky near you!” She threw another pinecone at the statue, and it hit the eye dead in the centre, making her erupt into triumphant laughter.

 

“Yes! You got him!”

 

“I know!” She passed Ford three more pinecones. “Want another try?”

 

And then, before they knew it, they each had an armful of pinecones, and they were pelting the statue with them, laughing breathlessly and shouting. The sound sent a flurry of birds to flight, wings beating against the late-summer sky. 


End file.
